Innocent Destruction
by Phillipa Aizen
Summary: An aftermath to the TNG episode "The Child"


"Innocent Destruction"

He was gone.

Nothing in existence could fill the empty spaces that remained after his

passing. His bedroom was emptied of all that had belonged to him, and her

body and mind had been emptied of the human presence that had been him for

such a short time.

Ian Andrew Troi Junior had joined Ian Andrew Troi Senior.

It had been such a shock, at first, for Deanna to discover that she was

pregnant. Somehow, she had grown accustomed to the feel of life breeding and

growing inside her, but before she had fully adapted to the peculiar

sensations, he had been born.

His sweet innocence had brought a joy to her life that, at one point, she

had never even considered. The sudden responsibility of motherhood had

struck hard, but she had loved every moment of it. The constant presence of

Captain Picard and Doctor Pulaski had been a constant nagging pull on her

strained nerves, but she had managed to block out their insistent concern

and focus all of her attention of taking care of her son.

But now her quarters were eerily silent, shrouded in darkness as she slept

away her grief and pain. Her breathing was low and ragged as her body

writhed and convulsed with nightmare terror. In her dreams, she was standing

over his bloodied body, clutching a stained knife in her hands, while

phantom images of her friends stood over her, laughing cruelly.

Murderer!

Deanna awoke, bathed in sweat and tangled in her covers. She knew without a

doubt that Ian had left of his own accord, so as not to destroy the

_Enterprise_ and her crew, but that did nothing to assuage the pain in her

heart. True, the wandering entity was still alive, making use of his

inquisitive nature elsewhere, but the Human/Betazoid child that had been Ian

Troi was dead, and he would never return.

Acting almost on instinct, she moved towards his bedroom. Her eyes fell upon

the small bed, and tears sprang to her eyes.

His bed.

His grave.

She began to weep aloud, for the first time since his passing, and the sobs

were loud and gut-wrenching. Her body shook with the violence of her cries,

and she sank to the floor, curling up into a tight ball as she released her

hurt and terror.

It was in that position that Will Riker found her, a few minutes later.

------------------------------

Never in his life had Will Riker seen Deanna Troi looking so frightened and

vulnerable. She lay on the floor, sobbing quietly as she finally released

the pent-up agony of her son's death, and Will longed to take her into his

arms and kiss away the pain inside her.

He said nothing, simply watched her as her low whimpers filled the air. Why

did she had to act so strong? Did she truly believe that it would do her

good to bottle up all the pain and distress, until it threatened to tear her

apart?

Will sighed, and it was a harsh sound. He hated to see what Deanna had done

to herself, and it was a great effort for him to continue denying the fact

that he was behaving in the same way as she had done. Ian had meant so much

to her, and to him as well. When she had announced her pregnancy to the

senior staff, he had almost wept with fear and pain at the thought that she

had been impregnated by someone other than himself.

It had been one of the most selfish thoughts he had ever had, and he was

deeply ashamed by it, but that had not changed his reflexive reaction to her

announcement. What had made matters worse was that he had known that she was

sensing his distress. Even though he had tried his hardest to block his

thoughts from her, he knew from the sudden lowering of her face that he had

been unable to keep his feelings to himself. Never in his life had he felt

so selfish.

As he fell inside of the painful memory, he saw her glancing up from her own

sorrow to meet his eyes. The raw agony in her onyx eyes was almost tangible,

and he fought the urge to reach out and hold her against him and make the

pain go away.

She was trembling, and he felt his own body beginning to quiver in response

to the grief that permeated the room. Her face was stained with tears, and

he felt his own pain drawing closer to the surface, ready to devour him as

her suffering had devoured her.

A single tear slipped out from beneath his control, and he swore silently,

cursing himself for the weakness that he displayed in such quantity. He had

come to her quarters in order to comfort her, but had only succeeded in

showing his own despair over the death of her child.

"Will..." she whispered, and her voice was hoarse in the aftermath of her

outburst. "Will...my Imzadi...why do you cry?"

He frowned at the question, pondering her words even as more tears fell from

his eyes. Why was he mourning Ian's death? He had known from the moment the

boy was born that Deanna would raise him without any help from her so-called

Imzadi. Surely, if she wanted him to be a part of her life, she would have

allowed him to take part in the birth of her son?

"I...I don't know..." he whispered, and turned his face away from hers,

knowing that if he continued to gaze into those deep eyes, he would break

down in front of her, for reasons that he truly did not know.

"Deanna...you're hurting." He wiped away the first of his tears, pausing to

make sure that no others would follow. "Let me help you to begin the healing

process."

She closed her eyes, and hugged her knees to her chest. "No, Will, you

cannot help me." Tears of anger broke from her eyes, and his heart skipped a

beat at the vulnerability in her pained expression. "I must deal with this

on my own. Leave me alone."

In spite of the hurt that coursed through him upon hearing those three

words, he did as he was told, knowing that she needed to be by herself to

recover from the horror of losing a loved one. He stepped respectfully away

from the room that had served as his bedroom, and quietly left her quarters.

He walked slowly down the corridor, thinking about what had happened. Why

was the death of a boy he had never known caused such aching within him?

He was not due on the bridge for several hours, and so decided to go to his

quarters, and work out his feelings there.

As the doors to his private living room slid softly closed behind him, his

mind wandered to the beautiful baby boy that he had seen nestling

contentedly in his mother's arms. Those huge dark eyes had looked so much

like Deanna's, and his face had been pure with the youthful innocence of

childhood.

Without warning, more tears welled up in his eyes. As he struggled to

suppress the choking sobs, his mind recalled the words that his father had

spoken in a coarse voice, as they had stood together at the funeral of

Will's mother.

"A real man, doesn't cry, Will. Remember that."

A mosaic of images swam before Will's eyes. His father, bent over the grave

in silent grief for his deceased wife. Deanna, drenched in perspiration as

she brought her son into the world. Ian, mewling loudly in his mother's

arms, as Deanna gently rocked him to sleep.

William T. Riker began to cry loudly and unabashedly, and he did not care

about what his father's idea of a 'real' man would have done under the

circumstances.

In Will's opinion, real men were not afraid to show their feelings,

especially not when their heart was breaking.

------------------------------

The moment she heard the doors to her quarters sliding ominously shut behind

Will Riker, Deanna felt more tears forming in her swollen eyes. She lowered

her head into her hands, and cursed herself for the weakness that had

allowed her to be caught in tears by no less than her Imzadi. It took every

ounce of psychology training hat she had studied to remind herself that the

way she was feeling was no sin.

Still, no amount of training could remove the emptiness inside her...and no

amount of training could bring her son back to her. The pain was raw and

deep, and filled her chest, like a physical essence that could be touched

and held. It was almost as if a wild animal was nestling inside her, waiting

for that moment when she would crumble, releasing it to roam free and

destructive.

She needed Will. She needed him to be here with her, sharing with her the

unfocused pain that she had sensed within him. She needed to know that she

was not the only person in the galaxy that was hurting.

"Imzadi!" she cried, and her voice was distorted by the tears that flowed so

freely down her pale face. "Imzadi....I need you..."

Desperately, she reached out with her empathic skills, searching for the

comfort that his unique presence brought to her. For a long moment, she

could not reach him, and ceaseless terror filled her for what seemed like an

eternity, fuelling the pain in her heart. Why did he not respond to her

mental calls? Where was he?

After a lifetime of searching for her Imzadi, she found his unique beauty.

She drew the loving sensations that she felt from him towards herself, and

drank of his existence as a moth drinks of the flame that destroys him.

He was grieving.

Deanna felt herself taking more and more of his pain, making it hers, and

strangely drawing comfort from the knowledge that he was hurting too. Her

pain was his pain, and his pain was hers, as defined the deepest meaning of

the intimate Betazoid endearment. Imzadi had never failed her before, and he

did not fail her now.

Their minds joined in an endless union, and their separate pains became one

combined force, which was so powerful that it overwhelmed them both to a

point of physical and mental exhaustion.

It was horrible.

It was beautiful.

Through the haze of distress that was Ian's death and Will's own private

grief, Deanna heard a low whine beginning somewhere in the most distant

recesses of her mind.

It was the most inopportune time for her to be interrupted from such deep

meditation, but she found herself opening her eyes, and squinting with a

queasy headache, and stinging eyes at the flashing lights that were molded

to the wall of Ian's bedroom.

"RED ALERT! RED ALERT! ALL SENIOR OFFICERS MUST REPORT TO THE BRIDGE IMMEDIATELY! REPEAT, ALL SENIOR OFFICERS MUST REPORT TO THE BRIDGE IMMEDIATELY!"

------------------------------

The howling of the red alert sirens grated along Will's nerves as he strode

onto the bridge. As he took his place to the captain's right, he glanced

around, realising that to everybody present, he was focused solely on the

red alert. Nobody knew about his secret grief, and he hoped to keep it that

way.

The reason for the red alert became clear immediately, as the hawk-like

visage of a Romulan warbird raked across the viewscreen. With wide eyes,

Will turned to face Captain Picard. "Captain!" he cried, ensuring that the

disbelief he felt was clear in his tone of voice. "What the Hell are the

Romulans doing this far into Federation territory?"

Picard gave a small smile, but Will could see the tension behind it. The

captain was feeling uncertain, and that knowledge brought a feeling of such

intense concern in Will that he had to take a deep breath in order to

contain it.

He had only known Jean-Luc Picard for a year, but in all that time, he had

never seen anything less than perfect composure in those deep hazel eyes. To

see such a great captain looking even slightly out of sorts was physically

distressing, and Will's nervousness grew even greater as the doors to the

turbolift slid open, and Deanna stepped down onto the main bridge.

"Counsellor Troi!" shouted Will over the whining of the sirens. "You are

officially off duty, and we are in the middle of a crisis! Get off the

bridge, or you will be removed."

She shook her head, and he grimaced as he saw the pain in her eyes. Her face

was pale and drawn, and she was swaying slightly as she stood. She was in no

condition to be anywhere but in her quarters, yet she staggered down towards

the command center. Will felt a flush creeping across his face as he

realised that she was probably sensing his inner turmoil. "Not now, Will."

Her voice was shaking as she spoke in a hoarse whisper. "Captain, you must

take the _Enterprise_ away from this area immediately. We are in great

danger...please!"

Picard frowned at her as she slumped into her seat. "Explain yourself,

Counsellor," he said in a voice made sharp by caution.

"I can't..." she admitted, gasping a little. "I can't explain why or how I

know that we have to get out of here, but we DO!! Please, Captain, you have

to believe me..."

Will wanted to go to her and steady her against his strong chest, but he

knew that if he allowed himself to touch her, his own grief would spill out

of him once again. He was unused to feelings of such intensity, and had to

use all of his strength simply to remain in control of his rampant emotions,

without the extra diversion of Deanna's tear-filled eyes. It took all of his

discipline not to allow tears to fall from his eyes, and the frustration of

not knowing why he was so upset was weighing heavily upon him.

"Counsellor, I can't simply retreat from this encounter with no good reason.

We can't allow the Romulans to roam freely across Federation space." Picard

was visibly struggling to contain his own frustrations, and for the first

time in many years, Will was grateful that he was not a starship captain.

"Can you try to make your impressions a little clearer?"

Deanna did not say anything, but her expression had subtly changed from fear

and pain to simple confusion. Something about the captain's words had

clearly puzzled her.

"The Federation has always been roughly equal to the Romulans," the captain

went on. "I don't see how a single Romulan warbird could possibly pose a

threat to a Federation starship, let alone the fully-armed flagship!"

The pinched expression returned to Deanna's face, and she grew even more

pallid. "Captain..." she said slowly. "I don't know what you're talking

about." She paused thoughtfully, then clarified. "There is no Romulan

warbird."

------------------------------

Deanna gazed out at the stars, and willed herself not to begin crying in

front of her friends and comrades. The tiny pinpoints of crystalline light

looked so much like the true form of the entity that had been Ian...and she

felt her pain beginning to batter against her carefully-built shields.

Will and the captain were worried about her; they thought that she was too

consumed by grief to be able to do her job properly. The chill of loss that

covered her became a sudden raging fire, fuelled by anger and hatred at

their naivite.

"Counsellor..." The captain sounded anxious, as if wondering how to politely

remove her and her ravings from his precious bridge.

Deanna closed her eyes, shutting out for a valuable moment the raging storm

of emotion that was enveloping her. After a moment, she had regained

sufficient composure to voice the concerns that she sensed so clearly from

out amongst the lonely stars.

"Would you like me to repeat what I said?" she asked curtly. "I said there

is no Romulan warbird. My...loss...has nothing to do with this fact, and I

thought that you would understand that. The forces out there are far more

powerful than a mere Romulan, and judging by what I'm sensing from them,

they could easily destroy this ship a hundred times over."

Picard was looking at Will Riker now, as if asking the first officer whether

Deanna was capable of making sense. She was deeply offended by this, and

before Will had the chance to open his mouth in response to the captain's

silent inquiry, she had shot the captain an acid glare and responded

herself. "You don't get it, do you?" she asked coldly. "If I was as

disturbed as you are rudely implying, I would not have taken the time and

energy to come up here and warn you about the powers that you are facing."

"Hold on, Deanna," said Will, leaving his seat and moving to stand beside

her. "The captain is not implying anything...he just wants to know if

you're...umm...absolutely certain that what happened regarding...him...are

not affecting your judgement." There were tears in his eyes as he held her

face in his hands, trying to make her understand. "These issues you're

discussing are really serious, and the captain doesn't want to risk trusting

a person who has just endured such a terrible loss--"

Pushing him away with violence, Deanna climbed unsteadily to her feet. Why

couldn't they realise how difficult it was for her to try and act like her

heart had not been ripped out of her chest? Didn't they know how much effort

she was putting into this explanation, and how much pain it was causing?

"Captain," said the smooth, rational vioce of Lieutenant Commander Data from

the Ops position. "The sensors have confirmed that the vessel before us is

indeed a Romulan warbird, and there are no other presences within our

current vicinity."

That was all it took. One simple denial of the sensations that were pressing

down so hard upon her was all that it took to push her over the edge. Until

that moment, she had been able to deny her feelings, her grief, her

pain...WILL'S pain...but that one confirmation from Data was too much for

her shredded emotional composition to handle.

There, on the bridge of Starfleet's flagship, right in front of her friends,

comrades, and superiors, Deanna Troi broke down.

------------------------------

WIth undusguised horror, Will watched as Deanna's emotions sliced through

her defenses, and she began to scream in pain.

He'd had no idea that she had been so affected by the death of her son,

though he knew that he should have anticipated a reaction like that. As he

knelt beside her, he felt tears streaming down his own face, and realised

belatedly that she had strengthened the dormant link between their minds.

The last time she had done that had been a cry for help over her guilt

regarding the death of Tasha Yar.

She was not fully aware of the events going on around her, but she moved

towards him almost on instinct. Her body trembled as she pressed herself

against him, and he took her into his arms, apologising profusely on her

behalf as he carried her away from the bridge. The last thing that Captain

Picard needed in the middle of a Romulan encounter was a distraught ship's

counsellor underfoot.

"Sssshhhh..." he soothed gently as the turbolift doors slid shut between

them and the rest of the bridge. He tried to ignore the glances that some of

the crewmembers were giving him, and focused only on her tear-drenched face

as she raised it pleadingly to his.

She struggled in his arms. "Leave me alone!" she mumbled through a haze of

sudden exhaustion. The teardrops still fell, glittering under the harsh

light of the turbolift, but her screams had dissipated to a helpless

whimper.

He kissed her gently on the forehead, and she calmed a little; her squirming

ceased and her skin turned flush with humiliation.

"Oh...Will..." she whispered softly. "I am so sorry! I didn't mean to make

you feel my pain like that. I just...it hurts so much...and I needed to know

that I'm NOT the only one who feels this way...please, Imzadi, please

understand..." She buried her face in his chest, staining patches of

dampness on his uniform.

He cradled her for a moment, stroking her hair and back, and trying to

remember how to calm her down. "Deck Eight," he said softly, when the

computer beeped impatiently. The lift began smoothly descending to the right

level, and Deanna raised her head at the sudden feeling of motion. "Take it

easy, Deanna," he murmured into her ear.

She closed her eyes. "The pain..." she gasped, taking his hand in hers, and

holding them both against her heart. "It feels so deep, so real! I can

almost..." a low moan escaped her lips "I can almost reach inside myself and

rip the hurt from inside me. It frightens me."

"I know," he said gently. "I feel it too."

The turbolift hissed open, and Will stepped out, still holding the sniffling

Deanna. Their eyes and minds were focused solely on each other as he carried

her through the threshold to her quarters, and so did not see the masked

soldiers until the hissing of a hypospray brought complete darkness to both

of their worlds.

------------------------------

"WHAT!!?"

Captain Picard glared at Lieutenant Worf, his face crimson. Had the Klingon

been able to experience the human sensation of fear, he would be feeling it

as he gazed into the captain's fiery eyes.

"What do you mean by calling this Intruder Alert?" Picard demanded

viciously. "I thought I ordered you to raise the shields!"

Worf scowled at his instruments. "I DID raise the shields, Captain," he

growled, forcing himself to remain in control of his anger. "Still, there

ARE intruders on the _Enterprise_ at this moment. Their location is

somewhere on Deck Eight, but something is preventing the sensors from

reading any closer than that. We cannot even determine their origins, but it

would be fair to assume that they are Romulans."

Picard shot a phaser-blast of a glare at him, and Worf frowned back. "On the

contrary, Mr. Worf, I believe that it would be fair to assume that they are

not Romulans."

Worf frowned, as did everybody else on the bridge. "Captain, the sensors do

not detect any life-forms, other than the Romulans," Data piped up. "The

most logical assumption would be--"

"That Counsellor Troi was correct," the captain interrupted. "Whatever is

going on out here is far more complicated than a simple Romulan invasion

into Federation space." He stared at the screen for a long moment, then

sighed. "Mr. Worf, I want an armed security team scouting Deck Eight for any

sign of these intruders. I want a senior staff meeting in two hours."

------------------------------

"Ohhhhh...Ian...?"

Will Riker opened his eyes, focusing them with difficulty on the shadowed

form of Deanna Troi, who lay in a heap beside him. She was moaning softly,

and her body was shaking.

He sat up quickly, intending to move towards her, but was stopped by a wave

of vertigo that overcame him, and sent him back to the patch of rock on

which he had been laying. He could still hear Deanna's delirious mumbling,

but was completely unable to find the strength to sit up once again. Using

only his arms, he crawled over towards her, and then finally raised his head

to meet her pain-filled eyes.

"Deanna, it's Will. Are you okay?" His voice was raspy and hoarse, and it

echoed strangely in the cavernous room that he found himself gazing around.

"Talk to me! What's wrong?" He knew that he didn't have to ask her, as he

was feeling the effects of the drugs himself, and was already familiar with

them, but he wanted to hear her voice speaking to him in the rational tone

that he was so familiar with.

She raised herself from the floor, and turned ashen straight away. Her hand

came up to clench tightly over her mouth and she closed her eyes,

shuddering. "Will?" she murmured, and her voice was thick. "Where is Ian?"

Will coughed dryly, and struggled to sit up without passing out again. He

did not want to remind her of her son's fate until he was sure that she was

all right. His head spun, and ached like he had been banging it against a

wall for the past few hours. "Actually, Deanna..."

She shook her head slightly, as if to clear it, then fixed him with cold

eyes. "Damn you, Will Riker, WHERE IS MY SON?"

Sighing, he reminded her of Ian's death. She released a low gasp of painful

recognition, and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry..." he said softly, knowing the

instant the words left his lips that his inadequate condolences were

foolish.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she whispered, and promptly began retching.

Will watched her silently, and groaned; he understood how she felt. As the

muffled sounds of her regurgitation filled the room, Will took the time to

look around and take in the surroundings.

It was more a cave than a room, and he sat in awe of its size. Whoever had

captured them certainly didn't want them to remain prisoners, though he

found it curious that their captors had chosen to drug them in order to

bring them here.

Will's Starfleet training began to kick in, and he decided that as soon as

he and Deanna felt well enough to stand, they would begin exploring the

area. He knew from experience that nothing could be gained from simply

sitting and waiting to be filled in on all the little details.

When Deanna finally raised her head, she was still very pale, but a little

of her old fire had returned to those beautiful black eyes. "Are you feeling

better?" Will asked softly.

"No," she said bluntly.

"We need to start exploring the area." He watched her response carefully; to

his surprise, she stood quickly, and began moving in a strained beeline.

"Wait! Are you sure you're all right to do this?" he asked urgently.

"Yes," she replied.

With effort, he stood, pausing to wait for the room to stop spinning around

him, and followed after her. He believed her when she said that she was

feeling well enough to take care of herself, even though he knew that it was

foolish to believe anything she said at that moment. The thing that he was

not sure about was whether he had the strength to keep up with her.

As they navigated their way through the enormous cavern, they were unaware

of the gleaming eyes that watched them from the shadows.

------------------------------

As Will leaned weakly against the wall for the second time in as many hours,

Deanna quickly sank down to the floor and placed her head between her knees,

hoping to quell the heated sickness that had twisted painfully around her

gut.

Something was very wrong.

She took great relief from the knowledge that Will was suffering too; she

would have hated to think that she was slowing him down. Even though Will

was not getting sick, he was clearly in great distress of another kind. His

breathing was loud and ragged, and his chest heaved in deep gulps of stale

air.

In spite of his own physical discomfort, he still took the time to make sure

that she was all right, and she smiled in spite of her illness as he knelt

beside her and pressed his hand gently against her back.

"Hey there," he said softly, rubbing her back. "How are you feeling? Has the

room stopped spinning yet?"

Without raising her head, she groaned softly and tried to relax her body

under his fingers as he gently massaged her tense muscles. "No," she

whispered. "I feel awful...and I don't know why...it's the most peculiar

sensation, almost like--" All of a sudden, her throat tightened, and she

found herself swallowing yet another wave of nausea. "Oh, God...not

again..." she moaned, leaning forwards to keep from being sick all over

her clothes.

"Take it easy..." he whispered, holding her hair back. "Come on, deep

breaths...take slow, deep--AAHHHH!!" His hands fell from her hair, and

Deanna raised her head, gazing into his suddenly pain-filled eyes.

"Will!" she cried desperately. He was gasping in pain and clutching his

chest. A low gurgling sound escaped his lips, as if he was being strangled.

"Will...Imzadi...talk to me. Please, Will, tell me what's wrong!"

Her sickness was abruptly forgotten as she roughly shook him, begging him to

explain what was wrong, pleading with tears running down her face.

For a moment, he stared uncomprehending into her eyes, wheezing painfully

with every laboured breath that he forced into his shrieking lungs.

"H...e...l...p..." he choked. "I...m...z...a...d..i..."

Then he passed out.

Even in his unconsciousness, Will groaned and writhed as the pain invaded

every pore of his body. Deanna would have felt the pain even if she hadn't

strengthened the bond, and Will's agony was the final push that sent her

over the edge into complete mental breakdown.

Ian was dead.

She was in pain.

They were lost and alone.

Will was in pain.

She was not well.

Will was not there to hold her.

Everything was completely wrong, and she wailed desperately, calling

psychically for her Imzadi to hold her in his arms again. His pain filled

her head, mingling with her own suffering until it threatened to explode

under the pressure that struck it.

At the very back of her mind, she could hear him crying out even as he

drifted into limbo, begging her to heal his wounds, while the whole time she

was overwhelmed by her own problems...would her self-absorbance cause the

death of the one man she truly loved.

**He could be dying** said a voice inside her mind. **Your Imzadi could by

dying beneath your hands, and what are you doing to help him?**

"Stop!!" she screamed, repsonding to the madness of the voices in her head.

"Leave me alone!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"

**So, you see the truth?** asked the presence in its sickly-sweet tone of

voice. **You realise now that you are allowing this man to die, because you

are too self-centered to pay him any attention.**

She curled in on herself, whimpering. "Stop it, stop it, stop it stop it

stopitstopitstopit!!" She broke off at the sound of Will's screams of

unconscious agony mingling with the sound of the evil voice inside her mind,

as it delivered the final, crushing blow.

**MURDERER!!!**

**MURDERER!!!**

**MURDERER!!!**

------------------------------

The senior officers crowded around the conference table, waiting for the

meeting to begin. The captain was frowning impatiently, Geordi La Forge was

drumming his fingers tunelessly, and Kate Pulaski was fidgeting

uncomfortably. Worf was growling in a voice so low that only Data could hear

it.

The android observed their reactions thoughtfully, judging by their body

reactions that they were all waiting for the same thing to happen.

Three pairs of eyes and one VISOR gazed intently at the doors to the

conference lounge, waiting for Commander William Riker to show himself.

They had been waiting for ten minutes.

"Computer!" shouted Picard, eventually. "Tell me the location of Commander

Riker."

The computer beeped softly, executing the search for Will's communicator.

"Maybe he's still...talking...to Deanna," Geordi murmured softly. "She was

pretty mixed up on the bridge..."

Data was about to enquire about the engineer's choice of words, when the

computer released another quiet beep, and spoke the eight words that took

them all by surprise.

"Commander Riker is no longer aboard the _Enterprise_"

A ripple of surprise surged through the assembled officers. Data decided

that it was an inopportune time to ask his question, but the perfect moment

to voice a theory.

"Captain, would it not be logical to assume that the so-called Intruder

Alert has something to do with Commander Riker's disappearance. If you will

recall, there was no sign of any intruders, and the mystery of Commander

Riker's disappearance adds to the puzzlement of the current situation..."

"That much is obvious!" bellowed Worf, and stood, displaying his full

height. "We should be taking action against this obvious intrusion, and be

taking steps towards finding Commander Riker!!"

Picard remained thoughtful, quiet, unconcerned by all that was happening

around him. After a few peaceful moments, he spoke, and his voice was like a

dash of cold water to the disturbed officers. Data watched carefully their

reactions to his calm voice.

"Mr. Worf, if you have any ideas on how we can achieve that, I would be more

than willing to listen to everything you have to say."

Worf did not say anything, but Data distinctly heard a Klingon curse

muttered under his breath. Eventually, he raised his head, and scowled at

the captain. "Sir, we cannot simply remain here and do nothing to ensure

Commander Riker's safety! Such an act would be highly dishonourable!"

"What do you propose we do, Lieutenant?" Picard asked gently. "Fight an

enemy that we cannot see, nor do we know their intentions? Destroy the

supposed "warbird" in the hope that Commander Riker is not on board? I'm

open to suggestions."

Worf hung his head, an act of shame that Klingons very rarely allowed

themselves to show in front of others. "I apologise for my rash behavious,

Captain...I am merely concerned about the welfare of my superior officer,

and my close friend."

"I understand, Mr. Worf," said the captain, and Data noted with curiousity

the genuine conviction that filled him as he spoke the next few words. "We

WILL get Commander Riker back in once piece."

For a moment, Data wondered how honest Captain Picard was being as he said

that. Could he really know for certain the fate of his beloved first

officer?

------------------------------

Consciousness came and went like a flickering light bulb. Will Riker opened

his eyes, and almost fainted again at the feel of such intense pain searing

into his brain.

Why did it hurt so much?

A soundless gasp escaped his lips, and he tried in vain to roll over onto

his back. Where was he? Who was he?

Never in his life had he experienced such pain, and yet somethign had

brought him back to consciousness. What horrible force had dragged him out

of the safety that he had enveloped himself in?

"IMZADIMZADIMZADIMZADI!!!" Deanna howled into the freezing ground.

Will gasped in pain, struggling to move his arms. His right foot jerked

spasmodically in response to his attempt. Through eyes blurred with tears

and blood, he squinted at her; she lay on the floor, retching and shrieking

with the force of whatever suffering filled her mind.

At that moment, his own problems seemed miniscule...even though it had

caused him to fall into the protective embrace of sweet unconsciousness.

Deanna was hurting, and that was all it took to propel him towards her

writhing body.

As she gasped out that one word again and again, it softened, and coalesced

into a completely different word, one which caused Will's heart to seize up

at the sound if it.

"IMZADIMZADImzadimzadimzadi...NO...NO NO

NO.........murdermurdermurdermurder...."

Will moved painfully slowly towards her huddled form; she shrank away from

him, gasping in terror and pain. "D...e...a...n...n...a..." he managed to

whisper in the softest of voices. It was all he could do to release that one

near-silent hiss of breath.

"NNNOOOOO!!!" she screamed, the sound of her voice cutting through the air

like a cold, gleaming knife. "LEAVE ME ALONE!! Please please please please

please..........."

Will winced in pain; blackness was beginning to overtake his already

wavering vision. His body began to tremble, and he felt it even in his

half-intelligable state. Deanna was burbling incoherently, alternating

between screams and soft plaintive whimpers, and Will silently cursed

himself as he realised that there was nothing he could do to comfort her.

He choked out her name one more time, as he fell once more into the deepest

abyss that was unconsciousness.

As he passed out and she continued wailing out the pains in her heart, two

shadowd figures stepped out from the concealing shadows. Their eyes gleamed

with pleasure against the blackness of their cloaks.

Their laughter spiralled up into the darkest corners of the cavern, an

endless song of mystery and insanity.

------------------------------

The first sensation that Deanna experienced as she pulled herself out of the

haze of her own agony, was the desperate cries of a man in distress.

She could feel the salty spray of tears against her hot cheeks, and tried to

raise a hand to her face, to wipe the moisture away. Her body would not

respond to her commands; it had surrendered itself completely to her state

of irreperable depression.

"Im...zad...ee...?" she whispered, moaning softly at the sound of his name.

Faintly, the soft sobbing became a coherent sigh, and he spoke her name in

the quietest of voices. "Deanna...are...you...all right?"

Imzadi was dead.

Deanna had let him die.

Why was this stranger responding to her pleas? She closed her eyes, and

began wailing for her deceased father, her deceased son, her deceased

beloved.

She felt arms around her, and pushed them away impatiently. He was not her

Imzadi, nor would he ever be her Imzadi, even though he wept with the pain

that had tore through the chest of her sweet Imzadi.

Her head swam, her stomach churned, and her eyes refused to focus. She did

not need any of her long-since forgotten training to know that she was very,

very sick.

Still, she would have preferred to be dead than to live with the memory of

the murders that she had commited.

"Deanna...it's all right...sweetheart...I'm right here...take it

easy...it's...okay...I...promise..."

She raised her head slightly, then vomited in response to the pain of that

movement. "Go away!" she groaned. "Imzadi...I need you...NOW!! Come back to

me!!!!" She reached blindly into the darkness, searching for a presence that

she knew she would not find.

The man beside her began to howl once more in pain, but Deanna was oblivious

to his cries as she threw up again and again into the dust at her feet, then

began to resume her incoherent shrieking.

"deadeadeadeadeaDEADEADEADEAD!!" her voice wavered as she screamed out the

one word that tortured her.

"DEANNA!!" screamed the voice of the man by her side. He sounded so much

like her Imzadi...but the voices in her mind had told her the unavoidable

truth: he was dead, and she was too far gone to believe otherwise.

"Nonononononononononononono..." she mumbled, still queasy and unable to

raise her voice to the level that it had been at before. "Why don't you

leave me alone? I need my Imzadi...GO AWAY!!!"

"Damn it...Deanna..." he rasped. "I...AM...your Imzadi...I need your

help...please...I need you..." His voice was even more strained than hers,

and she gasped at the prospect of yet another death at her hands.

How many more deaths could she take?

"H...e...l...p...m...e...I...m...z...a...d...i..." he whispered, before

lapsing into impenetrable silence.

Was he dead, too? Deanna couldn't see anything beyond the blur of grey that

was the smudged ground, and she suddenly found herself unable to open her

empathic senses and tell whether he really was her Imzadi.

"Imzadi..." she called, and pressed herself against his motionless body. She

was too tired to argue with herself any more, and it was less painful to

believe that this stranger was her Imzadi, than to believe that he was dead.

"Please, Imzadi...help...I'm so scared..."

She felt his arms, weak as they enveloped her, and their sobs of pain and

distress filled the room completely.

Neither of them noticed the shrouded figures that stood less than a meter

away from their huddled bodies.

------------------------------

The fire seared through Will's chest like nothing he had ever felt before,

but he could not allow himself to dwell upon the sensations. Not when Deanna

needed him.

His breathing was becoming even shallower with every inhalation, and his

eyes would not open, in spite of all his efforts to focus them on the world

before him. He could not see the tear stained face of Deanna before him, but

did not need to see her to know that she was terrified.

Knives slashed into his chest, and he fought the urge to reach inside

himself a tears the offensive lungs from his body. It did not matter that

without lungs he would die, because he knew beyond rationality that once his

lungs were gone, the pain would stop, and that was all that mattered.

He was dying, anyway.

As his arms held Deanna tightly, he realised with sickening violence that

she didn't know who he was, as she rambled on and on about things he could

not understand.

He didn't know if she was hurting like he was, but he wished with all his

strength that she was not. Even if her suffering would have meant that his

would end, he would not have allowed it. She meant so much to him...even

though she did not know it, and probably never would.

Her delicate frame trembled in his arms, and he held her as tightly as he

could without crushing her. It was the most intimate of intimacies, the most

wondrous of wonders, but neither of them had any way with which to enjoy the

sensations fully.

At last they were together, and they would have both given anything to be

somewhere else.

Will's mind raced crazily, and he struggled to hang on to a single thread of

reality. Nothing seemed intelligeable any more, and he longed to find

something that actually held meaning.

"IMZADI!" screamed Deanna.

"I...m...z...a...d...i..." whispered Will, using the remainer of his

resources to push that sacred word from his frozen lips.

She should have understood the word--after all, she had said it--but she

responded to his soft endearment with violence. She pushed him away,

squirming in his arms, and he heard her staggering clumsily away from him.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, and managed to open his eyes a tiny

fraction. Through tears that streamed down his face, he saw Deanna huddling

on her side a few feet away from him. She was singing nonexistent songs in a

voice made high-pitched by craziness. With such effort that it stole the

breath he did not have, Will managed to crawl a few millemetres towards her

quivering form.

Suddenly, Will's vision was cut off by a large dark "presence" that slashed

across his face, and stepped down between him and the cowering Deanna.

It was a foot.

Rough hands grabbed Will by the shoulders, and pulled him to his feet. He

swayed usteadily against the "person" who held him upright. Even as he came

face to face with the spirits of Hell, his eyes searched for Deanna.

The spirit spoke, and his voice was low.

"You will follow me," he said softly.

Will shook his head shakily. "I...can't..." he wheezed.

"Deanna...needs...me..."

The spirit laughed loudly, and the sound was dangerous in spite of his

obvious amusement. "You do not understand me," he said in a voice that was

suddenly low and deadly. "That was not a request. It was an instruction. You

WILL follow me, or you will die, and so will she."

Will climbed weakly to his feet, groaning in pain as his chest threatened to

explode. "What the hell do you want?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

"You're not making me leave her alone, are you?" He indicated the burbling

Deanna.

The spirit seemed to consider this for a moment, but his next words sent a

chill of concern down Will's spine. "You fool! She is the one we are looking

for. You are simply here to offer her support as she faces what we are about

to show her." He bent and took Deanna into his arms; she pulled away,

whimpering.

As Will staggered after the retreating form of the hellish spectre, another

black-gloved hand reached out to steady him. It spoke in a voice that was

acidically seething. "My Lord, this one is in poor condition. These humanoid

lifeforms do not react well to the radiation."

Will's eyes widened in spite of the tears at that one final word.

"Radiation...?" he wheezed.

"I know, you dolt!" spat the leading spirit. "We must take them to the place

of Safety, and take care of them. Only when they are in better health will

they meet the One who wishes to meet with them. Hurry the larger one along!"

Darkness was enveloping his senses, and it was becoming more and more

difficult to place one foot in front of the other. For a brief moment, he

blacked out, and when he came around, he was lying in the arms of the second

spirit. He groaned and tried to struggle out of his arms, but knew that he

would be unable to walk if he wanted to. He found himself suddenly helpless

in the arms of the enemy, with no way to defend himself or Deanna as they

were carried further into enemy territory.

------------------------------

"Will...Imzadi...Will..."

Deanna whimpered as she turned her face towards the dimming light, searchign

for that relentless presence that would protect her for eternity. She felt

awfully bad, and wanted the comfort of his healthy presence to reassure and

protect her from the "radiation" that the man carrying her had spoken of. In

her current state of stupidity, she did not even know if it was a good or

bad thing.

As she strained to hear any response that might come from him, she felt the

brush of his mind, gentle as it swaddled her in its purity. She embraced the

love, and returned to him her own care and hope for his safety.

"Deanna...take care of yourself. I...don't think I'm going to make it...I'm

sorry, Imzadi."

Anger surged within her, like a foul wave of sickness and pollution.

"NNNOOOO!!!" she screamed at the top of her voice. "You are not going to

die!" Slipping into hallucinations, reality wavered before her shattered

mind's eye. "Hold on, baby! Mommy's coming...IAN!!!!" She lurched from the

man's arms, and staggered with unsteady steps towards the shadowed figure

that could only be her Imzadi.

"No!" hissed the man that had been cradling her. "You are to be treated for

the radiation sickness. Remain still and calm, or the sickness will spread,

like it has done within your friend. REMAIN CALM!!"

He certainly didn't sound calm, she thought, so why should she calm herself

for him? Her Imzadi needed her, and she would not let him down.

As her groping fingers clasped the limply hanging material of his sleeve.

Though her mentality left much to be desired, her empathic sense was as

sharp as ever, and she remained constantly linked with him; this time, there

could be no way of misinterpreting that violent rattle as he drew his final

breath. She felt his heart stop beating as if it was her own.

William T. Riker was now undoubtedly dead.

Through the haze of her consciousness, Deanna could hear the strange beings

shouting urgently at each other. She wondered why. Her Imzadi was dead, and

nothing that they could do would bring him back.

Just like Ian.

"The radiation antidiote will not work!" shouted one of them, pushing the

other out of the way as they leaned over Deanna's Imzadi. "They must be in

the state of life, and this one clearly is not. We must give him the

Treatment!"

The other one moved to pick up Deanna, and she fought against his intruding

hands. "This one has the poisoning as well. Should I give it the antidote?

It may be able to help us salvage the lifeless one."

"Very well," muttered the first one, impatient for some reason. "But it must

be done quickly, as these creatures may only exist in lifelessness for a

brief time, before the condition becomes permanent. HURRY!!"

Deanna felt something similar to a hypospray sliding into her arm. The fog

that had engulfed her mind began to clear, as did the vertigo. Her own

thoughts returned to her, and she was finally able to think with a clear

mind. She raised her head, and looked down at herself.

"Ugh..." she muttered, then looked across the room in horror. "WILL!"

The two creatures were huddled over him, working feverishly on his still

body. They did not even glance up as she touched her shaking fingers against

his cold temples, chanelling all of her psychic energy into him. It would do

nothing to bring him back from the dead, but it was a Betazoid ritual that

must be carried out upon the death of an Imzadi.

She finished the ritual with a quick chant of repentance, and then sat back

to watch the creatures performing experiments on his limp body.

She vaguely recalled the creatures speaking of a 'Treatment' but could not

remember through the fuzz what it entailed. They seemed willing to help

though, and she could sense no malice from them; the best course of actions

eemed to be to allow them to continue with their experiment.

Certainly, there was nothing else to do for him.

"LIFE!!" shrieked the first creature, after an eternity of fruitless

efforts. Deanna opened her mouth to tell them that they were mistaken, but

the words would not form, no matter how hard she tried to push them from her

frozen lips.

She could feel him.

The song of his thoughts filled her like a melody, and she laughed aloud at

the beauty of it. Allowing herself a moment to rejoice, she then turned to

the creatures, who were still bending over him.

"Thank you," she whispered, kneeling beside him. "I can't thank you enough

for saving this man's life. If there's anything I can do to repay you for

this deed, I will--"

"YES!" The creature stood and took her hand, clenching it tightly in her

own. "You must follow us. There is One of our kind who wishes desperately to

speak with you. It is of upmost importance to him, and to you as well."

She nodded politely. "Of course, I would like to see your friend, but what

about Will? I can't just leave him here."

The second creature took the gasping commander into his arms, and then

nodded at the leader. "We shall take him with us. Is that satisfactory?"

Again, Deanna nodded. What else could she do. Reluctantly, she followed the

creature further into the cavern; she could feel the pain of Will's

breathing, and then something else that made her heart stop beating.

Ahead of her, a small glimmer of light shone upon the barren wall.

"IAN?" she cried.

------------------------------

It was too much. Finally, it was too much.

Deanna snapped.

Collapsing to her knees, she choked out a half-intelligeable comment, and

then began to scream.

"YOU'RE DEAD!! YOU FUCKING BASTARD, YOU ARE DEAD!!!! Why are you doing this to me??"

**Ian** floated gently down, landing inaudibly at her feet. She could feel

his distaste at the way she looked; pale, ragged, crazy...His sweet presence

filled her mind, and for the briefest of moments, she was healed from her

pain and anguish.

"Get away from me..." she hissed, turning her face away. "DAMN YOU!! You

left me there to suffer, feeding upon my guilt and rage...WHY?? What

did I EVER do to you?"

((You loved me...)) he said in a whispery voice. ((Love is something that

does not exist in my plane of existence. There is only compassion. You

provided me with the greatest gift I have ever experienced.))

"Then why punish me?" she whispered hazily. "Why put me through the hell of

all this? I CAN'T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU WANT!!"

He twinkled, then morphed into the form of the child that she had mothered,

and in spite of her rage and insanity, she began to laugh and cry at the

same time, overwhelmed by the sight of something that she thought she would

never see again.

"Mommy..." he whispered plaintively.

She drew him into her arms, holding him tightly against her chest as she

wept loudly in pain and grief. "What do you want?" she mumbled over and over

again.

"I want to say goodbye..." he said, muffled against her heated body. "And

sorry for causing you such pain. Forgive me...please."

And because she was so far gone, she did not respond, and they remained

melded together for an infinite moment of beauty and wonder. She could hear

Will making soft sounds as he writhed in the creature's arms, and longed for

them to become a family, though she knew it could never happen.

"Mr. Riker is sick..." whispered **Ian** still hugging his mother. "I need

to return you to your ship now, so they can treat him for the poisoning. I

love you, mommy."

A peculiar sensation envelopedher, like an itch that was in a spot that

there was no way of reaching...but it was EVERYWHERE. Just as it was

becoming unbearable, it dissolved, and her field of vision--which had

somehow grown hazy--began to clear.

She was in the _Enterprise_ transporter room.

Within a matter of moments, medical technicians had rushed Will's

unconscious form to sickbay. Deanna remained on the transporter platform,

unable to move or breathe.

At one point, someone wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, but they

mostly left her alone. They knew that she had no illness that they could

heal, so she was left to grieve in her own way.

The door slid open, some time during the third or fourth hour, and a much

healthier Will Riker strode towards her. He knelt beside her prone form, and

wrapped his arms around her, murmuring words of comfort in her ear. "It's

all right, Imzadi," he whispered. "Let it go."

She sobbed.

Healing would take time, but it would happen...and she would wake up one day

without the endless pain in her chest. As she cried in Will's arms, she

succumbed to the healing process, and surrendered herself to Will's love and

compassion, for her and her deceased son.

"I forgive you..." she whispered. "Goodbye."

THE END


End file.
